


Spring

by Junker



Category: The Banner Saga (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junker/pseuds/Junker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iver babysits Alette for Rook. Some grief is present over Aldis' death, but no death is described.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ginnungagap (gartloneyrat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gartloneyrat/gifts).



> A quick gift for a friend after discussing Varl dads!

“It’s just for a few hours,” Rook said. “Oddleif is busy and if I wait any longer, I won’t get back from hunting before dark.”

Iver watched Alette. She sat in the rich grass, trying to tie a string to a stick. Her long, red hair made her stick out like a flower amidst it, and he smiled softly at the sight of her. Her face held nothing but pure concentration as her small fingers struggled on the knot. Her lips slightly parted. Her brows furrowed. Her eyes narrowed. He thought she was precious.

“It’s fine, Rook,” Iver replied, offering his old friend a smile. “I’ll watch her. What do you humans say? It takes a village.”

The relief that crossed Rook’s face carried some pain in it. Iver patted Rook’s shoulder, and some heat hung in Iver’s cheeks as Rook gripped his horn. Rook pulled his head down to give his forehead a gentle butt. Iver had taught the human ages ago how Varl showed pure affection for each other. Rook did it sparingly, and it made each small exchange all the more precious. He kept their heads propped together for a moment, and Iver watched Rook’s eyes avoid his own. Iver cupped his bearded cheeks and smiled before he gave him a friendly, gentle push away. Rook returned the smile weakly. 

Iver wondered if he’d ever see Rook’s old smile again, or if it’d always carry this new weight to it. It was no secret that Rook struggled since his wife, Aldis, passed. He kept it to himself, but the town pulled together and helped where they could. Oddleif in particular kept her eye on Alette. Iver tried to make sure he was there in the background. Out of the way, but easy to call if help was needed.

“Thanks,” Rook said. “I owe you big.”

“You’re my friend,” Iver said gruffly, as if to make up for the kindness in his remark. “You owe me nothing.”

Iver gave him a wave and Rook watched him over his shoulder for a moment before turning away to watch the path ahead. Alette still sat in the grass, though she successfully tied the string to one end of the stick. She was now trying to bend the stick to tie the string to the other end.

Iver hadn’t lied to Rook. He considered him kendr. He’d been friends with him for the majority of the human’s life, and he watched him grow into the strong man that married Aldis. It was hard to watch some of that strength fade from him when she passed, but he supposed it was even harder for Rook to keep moving forward.

And if Rook ever asked him, he’d admit he’d been distant since Aldis had Alette. Watching them together reminded him of too much. What the Varl had lost. What he saw in the dredge. As fleshy and light as the humans were, he could see the love in the dredge’s face as clearly as he could see it in the human’s. Rook helped him forget why he was in Skogr, but Alette’s birth reminded him of it.

The Varl were a dying species. He supposed maybe they deserved it for slaughtering women and children, but then he felt guilty for thinking it. The guilt didn’t stop him from thinking it again.

When Aldis died, Iver acknowledged he had to pull it together. He couldn’t keep the family at arm’s length, not when Rook needed his arms to help keep his family strong. Still, Alette made him a bit uneasy. It’d been too long since he’d been with someone so young. With spring still budding, he smelt nothing but youth in the air. And her red hair in the grass only added to that.

Iver crouched in the grass across from her, not yet willing to commit to sitting. If he recalled correctly, children were restless, and he knew for a fact that Alette was quick. Even with her legs splayed apart in the grass like this, she could charge off and he’d lose her before he even got off the ground.

“What are you doing there?” Iver asked.

Alette didn’t look at him. It wasn’t fear or uneasiness. It was comfort. She didn’t need to be in awe of him. She was used to the enormous Varl. Even though he hadn’t spent much time with her, she accepted him as a fixture in her life. He knew her reasoning. She’d said it to him several times before. This was the giant that was family. Some people are uncomfortable with him. Those people are silly. Sometimes he is silly too.

He envied the matter-of-fact way she viewed the world.

“Oddleif says she’ll teach me to shoot once I’m strong enough to string my own bow,” she said. “I’m getting there.”

Iver saw what she was doing. She’d found a twig about as strong as a small bow and was trying to bend it to tie the string to it. He doubted she had the strength to bend it completely, and he doubted even more that Oddleif would start teaching her if she could. He thought Rook would prefer to teach her, but he understood that she probably asked Oddleif too often, so she gave her a task to keep her busy.

Alette let out a noise in frustration and tossed the twig in the grass. She said, “I wish I was strong like you.”

Iver tried not to laugh. Her father’s strength wasn’t enough for her, he supposed. She could take on the world, this child. Her face twisted into a frown at his laugh, and he said, “But archery isn’t just about strength.”

“It isn’t?”

“No,” Iver said, picking up her twig. “Do you see what happens when you have my strength?” He tried to string the twig, but broke it with ease. “There’s a reason I use an axe.”

Alette’s green eyes widened. “You broke my bow.”

He looked at the mess in his hand and realized she considered the twig her bow. He wasn’t sure why he thought she had a real bow stashed away somewhere, but he supposed a stick was all she had for now. Before he could apologize, Alette stood up and sighed like a woman who’d just lost her crop. She held out her hand to Iver and said, “I know where there’s another.”

Iver wasn’t immediately certain why she held out her hand to him, and she waved it at him again in his indecision. He straightened up when he realized she expected him to hold her hand, and just after he crushed her bow, too. He took her hand in his grasp. She could have simply held his thumb, but she took his palm in her grip like she could hold the entire world with her hand. He held it gently, and she finally settled on gripping his index finger since she couldn’t get much traction from his palm.

Iver had to hunch over to keep from lifting her off the ground. She pulled him towards a tree, and she raised her head as she pointed at an area near his horns. “There’s my new bow.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Between those two branches,” she said, gesturing wildly at the entire tree. “I’ve been waiting for the wind to knock it down, but you can just reach it.”

Iver inspected the branches to try to find a loose twig. Alette stomped and continued pointing with her free hand. She didn’t yell or demand it again, though she said “There” a few more times, as if it actually helped him. Iver finally spotted the free twig, and he carefully picked it out from between the branches. He handed it to her, and she offered him a wide grin and hugged it against her.

He remembered she was missing a tooth. She’d told Egil she lost it when she fell out of a tree, but Iver knew Rook had woken up to her crying in the middle of the night because she accidentally swallowed it in her sleep and missed out on the whole experience. Rook laughed when he told Iver the story. Iver thought it was the first time he’d heard him truly laugh since Aldis passed. He loved the sight of the gap in her smile. She was growing, and he thought she’d grow into a force to be reckoned with.

She pulled him back to the spot in the grass. The imprint of her small body was still there, and she dropped back into it, as if she grew there alongside the crushed blades. Iver took the risk of sitting with her. She recovered the string from the old bow and tied the end of the string to one end. She practiced bending the new bow. Iver watched her patiently, impressed with her quiet determination.

Time passed by pleasantly in a comfortable silence. Iver watched her and then the clouds. The peace hardly bothered him, though he wouldn’t admit it easily. When Alette finally gave up, she tossed the bow down next to her and watched Iver with interest. He watched her back. The life in her eyes always caught his attention. They watched each other in silence for a moment, then she asked, “What else do I need?”

“I’m sorry?”

“To be a good archer.”

He thought about this for some time, and she waited patiently. She was a quick-witted child. She knew he’d broken the stick to prove a point, especially since he retrieved the other without breaking it. She’d likely openly envy his strength again, but she wanted to hear his point anyway.

“Dexterity.”

“What’s that?”

“Um, you have to be nimble?”

“You mean I have to learn new words.”

“No,” he said, softly. He tried to think of a clearer example and absently wondered how Rook hadn’t explained what nimble was to her. He watched her for a moment and then said, “Your braid.”

“What about it?”

“It takes time to do that, right?”

“Yes.”

“What happens if you do it too fast?”

She shrugged. “It looks bad. Sometimes there’s knots.”

“But it’s fine right now.”

“Right.”

She waited for him to explain further, well aware there was a point somewhere even if she couldn’t see it. Iver said, “It’s kind of like braiding. You have to be slow enough not to make mistakes, but not so slow that it takes all day. And the more you braid, the quicker you can do it without making mistakes, right?”

She smiled again. He thought he’d miss that gap when a new tooth grew in. She said, “Right. So practicing braiding might help me become a better archer?”

“Right.”

She looked at her braid, taking it between her small fingers. He wondered what she thought about when she gently touched her own hair. She was a fierce child, sure, but she was quiet, pensive. It reminded him of Rook. It was strange seeing Rook in her movements and mannerisms. The more she grew, the closer her features resembled her mother’s, which Iver supposed was harder on poor Rook. But while she got her mother’s looks, he saw Rook in her every movement. Quick eyes, with all other actions patient and still. She’d be a strong archer like he was, and he suspected Rook would want to teach her himself, despite Oddleif’s promise.

Both Alette and Rook’s faces were expressive. He could easily see it in their faces as they worked out a problem. Her fingers were quick, nimble. Their sighs were similar, like they were exaling the weight of the world. It was odd to see it coming from a child, but it amused Iver more than it concerned him.

Alette looked at Iver and her eyes widened suddenly. He smiled as he realized exactly what she was thinking. He said, “You can braid my beard, Alette.”

She grinned, and he leaned back in the grass while she climbed onto his chest. He thought she weighed less than his axe. She laid on her stomach as she ran her fingers through his beard. She separated pieces of his hair, trying to decide where best to start. He knew she took his personal appearance into consideration. She couldn’t just braid anywhere. He assumed ribbons would ultimately get involved, though she had none on hand – yet. Iver folded his arms behind his head. The spring air was rich and cool. The sun hung lower in the sky, neatly off his face. Alette started to hum softly. He watched the clouds again. 

And he smiled as she started to braid.

**Author's Note:**

> • [Original Fics & Ao3 Blog](http://www.notamaincharacter.com/) •  
> • [Twitter](https://twitter.com/JunkerType) •


End file.
